The Drowning


Against isolation,
holy week
and whether this man inside,
with the sea so close,
can watch the only tree
through the only window.

How can we explain it?
When did it get started?
The sky was a white horse
with another door
open to fear and deformity.
There are no survivors
in these stories.

A hotbed of mare
and the lame, nights
made short. We rescued two
from an empty sea.
Never forget me
or my real appearance,
my last words.

I hear
there's a gospel of Mary
It is a fragment
and she is naturally saddened.

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